


T'es Beau, Tu Sais

by orphan_account



Series: Brighton B&B [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Author Bitty, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Past Break-Ups, discussions of toxic relationships, meet cute, meeting in a B&B, nhl jack, past Jack/Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Trying desperately to get through his writer's block and get distance from a bad breakup and online trolls, Eric Bittle takes up some advice and books a little B&B in a little seaside village in England.  He expects the quiet, and the friendly owners.  But he does not expect the sudden, whirlwind relationship with the other secretive, and unbelievably attractive second guest who seems to be attempting to escape his own demons.





	T'es Beau, Tu Sais

**Author's Note:**

> When I was a late teen, my dad suffered a severe injury that put him out of work for nearly two years. He had this...interesting idea that he'd open up a B&B since Brighton is such a tourist-town. --it ended up being a disaster, my parents nearly got divorced over it, and it lasted exactly 10 months before he gave up and found another hobby to amuse himself with. 
> 
> Anyway as i was remembering those not-so-fond times, I thought, wow what a great place for Bitty to meet Jack in a random AU.

T'es beau, mon grand,  
Et moi, vois-tu, je suis si petite.  
T'es beau tout le temps  
-Edith Piaf

*** 

The strangest thing about arriving at the little B&B wasn’t that it was profoundly different from where he’d been living, but how strikingly the same it felt. It was, in a way, a little disappointing. He’d been craving that otherworldly experience, something to get his creative juices flowing again. He’d been sucked dry by family tragedy, relationships ending, and repeated, ugly critique from the masses who seemed to think it was “inappropriate” for a middle-grade novel to feature a gay character.

Eric had wanted to take each and every internet troll by the shoulders and shout in their face, “Why not tell that to my thirteen year old self who was busy having a gay panic,” until he realised that those people probably would have. They were the grown up versions of the dickheads who shoved him into utility cupboards overnight, and laughed when they watched how far out of his way he’d go to avoid getting shoved into a locker, or trash bin. They were now hiding behind anonymous screen names, leaving ugly comments, taking his amazon review rating.

Luckily his publishing company had been prepared for the potential backlash, and luckily Eric’s wasn’t the first young adult or middle grade novel to feature a queer character. Unluckily, Eric’s was the first to take off as quickly as it had—mostly because the fantasy elements. The world had been clamouring for more urban fantasy geared toward the younger crowd, and they’d lapped this one up—even when the main character revealed himself as having a crush on the main antagonist.

It was a trope, and it was silly, and it was used a thousand times in books with hetero romance, but now Eric was suffering a backlash against it—people calling it toxic. He understood thinly veiled homophobia disguised as “concern”, but it didn’t make it easier to stomach.

And his first draft of the third book was due in two months, on his editor’s desk, and he had less than ten thousand words written.

So he’d taken some advice from his best friend, hopped a plane, and somehow found himself stood in front of a small cottage in Brighton with the sea down the road, and three weeks of nothing to do but write.

His hands shook a little as he reached for the door, staring at the little sign that said, “Come on in!” in a font so overly friendly it would even give his mother pause. But the entire experience, booking with this place, had that vibe. A brightly coloured website, enthusiastic greetings in the emails when he was booking, and even a welcome text message sent when his flight was due to land.

So…this was it.

Not really a home away from home. Brighton was different, but not much different than any little seaside resort in New England—with rocky beaches and people braving the sea in spite of the chilly summer breeze coming off the water. But it was something, he supposed, and at least it was an entire continent with Chad, because that was drama he wasn’t even close to ready to unpack.

*** 

Somehow, Eric had made it through the meet and greet. The incredibly pregnant young woman who took his card and showed him to his room was definitely far less enthusiastic than the sign on the front door would have him believe. She spoke with very little inflection, and yawned six times during the short tour.

Eventually, Eric said, “Why don’t I get settled in and you can go sit. You look dead on your feet.”

He expected snark, but instead she sighed and offered a tiny smile. “I’m only filling in. My dad and brother will be by later. This is my dad’s idiotic venture, and he’ll be way more excited, and far less pregnant than I am.”

Then she let him be, and he slowly unpacked.

The jet lag was murder, and he ached down to his bones, desperate for sleep since his clock was thrown off. But he was taking his mother’s advice, and staying up until at least sundown so he could be on a semi-normal schedule.

He busied himself with his laptop, connecting to the wifi, answering a few emails, doing everything but checking his amazon page because the last thing he needed right now was to be bashed in the face with all that bigotry. He sent a text off to Ford letting her knew he’d arrived, then eventually decided to wander downstairs and see if something could keep him busy.

The place wasn’t very big. Two stories, and from what he could tell, the family all lived in the guest cottage out back. There was a lot of art on the walls, mostly landscape stuff, and a few things with horses. The mantles were covered in various bits of driftwood and other trinkets which looked like they’d been made in crappy pottery classes by small children.

Going round the corner, Eric found himself pushing through a swinging door, into a small kitchen. It was smaller than he anticipated—bigger than anything he had access to in college, but nothing like his kitchen at home. Still, it was cosy, and also occupied by the pregnant woman who had signed him in.

“Sorry,” Eric grasped, taking a step backward. “I totally didn’t mean to…”

“Fancy a cuppa?” she said, pointing to the kettle on the counter. “The water’s just boiled.”

Eric hesitated, then nodded, and watched as she pulled a black mug out of a cabinet, shoved a tea bag inside, then poured the water on top. She pushed it over to him, and he curled his fingers round the warmth. “Thank you,” he said.

She nodded, then rummaged through the cabinet again, returning with a packet of what looked like small cakes topped with chocolate. “Here. I’ve been craving these like…nearly constantly, and it would totally make me feel less bad about these being the only things I’ve eaten today.”

Eric couldn’t help a small laugh as he shrugged and pulled one out. They were…not bad—nothing like he’d had at home. Soft on the bottom, a sort of orange jelly in the centre, and a dark bit of chocolate on top. “What…is it?”

“Jaffa cake,” she said through a mouthful. “They’re not even like the best things, but oh my god I can’t stop eating them. I think I want to go into labour simply to stop the madness.” She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly and sighed. “Anyway, sorry, this is probably weird.”

Eric shrugged. “Well, I mean, no weirder than you having strangers in your house, right?”

She couldn’t help a laugh. “A bit, yeah. My dad got hurt last year, and has been out of work and I think he’s gone a bit mad. My mum was…not pleased,” she said with a tiny snort. “But she’s gone all the time so it’s not like it really matters. Plus it gives my brother something to do.” She leant her elbow on the counter and stared at him. “So. American, are you?”

Eric laughed. “Obvious, right?”

“Well, if the accent didn’t give it away…” She winked. “You with some company or…?” When Eric frowned in confusion she said, “You said you were here for work.”

“Oh!” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah no. So…I’m a writer? Like…books? And I got this deadline comin’ up and my editor’s breathin’ down my neck and I can’t seem to get past this block. A friend of mine suggested getting away. To like, another country, so here I am, I guess.”

“What books, then? Think I’ve read any of them?”

Eric felt the familiar twinge of fear, where once there was excitement to talk about his books, now he felt nothing but trepidation that he was about to get an earful from some religious bigot who thought what he was writing was the ultimate sin. Gushing about his book ideas had long-since lost their appeal, and he considered making up a lie, but he couldn’t think that quick on his feet. “Ah uh. So…probably not. It’s middle-grade fiction? For um. Tweens and early teens?”

“You’d be surprised. I spent the first half of this pregnancy reading Rick Riordan in between puking my guts out,” she said.

Eric couldn’t help a laugh, and shook his head. “Lord but do I love those books. And erm well…so my books are the Bitty Bidwell series.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re shitting me.”

Eric flushed, not sure if she was excited because she liked them or…

“I have been waiting for the third book. I mean…okay I know it’s ridiculous that I’m a twenty-one year old, grown adult reading them but…shit.” She ran her hand down her face. “Have you any idea what I would have given to have queer lit available when I was that age?”

Eric felt relief rushing through him so intensely palpable, his knees were weak with it. He clutched his tea, and took a sip of it, grimacing at the bitter taste. “That’s kind of why I wrote it, you know? Growin’ up in a place where…well…bein’ gay wasn’t something you could be? I was a soft boy, ice skater, baker, but _not_ gay. Never gay. And there wasn’t nothin’ that told me it was okay. Not til I got to college and realised there was a whole, big world out there with people who weren’t like my uptight, nosy neighbours and bigoted aunt and uncle.”

After a moment, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Maya. I realised I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m blaming pregnancy brain.”

Eric laughed, taking her hand gently in his. “Eric Bittle. But I guess you knew that.”

She laughed. “Reckon I did. Still nice to meet you. Holy shit I am so excited right now.”

Eric hesitated, then said, “So long as you promise not to tell anyone who might care. I erm…it’s just been a lot recently and I need to get work done so…”

“Lips are sealed, I swear. The only other guest here is checking in today and he’s some single bloke all on his own. I don’t think he’ll bother you too much.”

Eric breathed out another sigh of relief. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

She winked, then groaned and pressed her hand to her lower back. “Now if you don’t mind…”

“Not at all. You go on, and…” He glanced round, then said, “Actually, how do y’all here feel about guests in your home baking pies?”

*** 

Eric was putting the finishing touches on a handful of mini peach pies when he heard Maya in the foyer talking to what had to be their newest guest. She’d gone for a nap as Bitty got to work on the pies, and he didn’t hear her again until the front door opened.

He was tempted to poke his head out and get a glimpse of who it was, but he decided it was probably better if he focused on his work. The baking wasn’t exactly helping him concentrate on his book, but the familiarity of it was calming his nerves, and he figured he could get at least a few pages done before bed.

Setting the small timer to the right of the stove, he turned and froze when he saw a tall teenager stood in the doorway, mouth hanging open. He looked quite a bit like Maya, hair curlier, and shorter, and his skin a darker brown. But they had the same large nose, and same sort of no-nonsense look about their eyes.

“Uh. Guest?” the teen said. His accent was different than Maya’s, thicker, in the back of his throat. It took Eric a second to see the hearing aids in his ears, which were mostly hidden under his curls.

He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, sorry. I was…baking.”

“Brill,” he said, then pushed past Eric to the fridge, rummaging through until he came out with a small bottle of something very, almost violently orange. “Baking what?”

“Pies. Peach pies,” Eric said.

“Peach pies?” he repeated, and Eric nodded. “Are you going to share?”

Just then, Maya darted into the kitchen, her hands flying in what Eric realised was sign language. The teen rolled his eyes, then made a V with his first and middle finger, shoved it in her face, then walked out.

“Sorry, my brother is…well. My brother.”

Eric huffed a laugh. “It’s fine. He wasn’t bein’ rude.”

“He’s just a pain in the arse, but he’s also pretty harmless. Eli,” she said, and Eric realised that was his name. “I was just getting the new one sorted.”

Eric had about a dozen questions, but decided to let them all go for now. Maya ambled off, and soon enough Eric met Yosef, the man who ran the B&B, and they sat and chatted about America—Eric answering all of Yosef’s very excited questions.

By the time the pies were finished, Yosef decided to order out for dinner, which gave Eric enough time to shower and try to look presentable for at least part of the night. The shower was fairly small, but it was warm enough, and sloughing off the smell of plane and train travel and everything else that came with an intercontinental flight.

He was exhausted by the time he was dressed, but he felt more human, and more amiable to conversation. Heading down the stairs, he heard voices coming from the living room, and stepped in to see that there was a small picnic laid out on the coffee table. Eli and Yosef were on the floor, dishing out plates, Maya was curled up in one of the comfy chairs, and the stranger Eric hadn’t met yet was seated a awkwardly prim on the edge of the sofa.

The stranger was attractive. That was immediately apparent. He was broad-shouldered and wide-chested like some of the football boys his daddy coached. His hair was thick black, a little floppy, and his chiselled jaw held a five o’clock shadow. His heavy-lidded blue eyes were fixed on the pair dishing out food, and he only looked up when Eric cleared his throat and said, “Hey y’all, sorry I took so long.”

The stranger stared, but the rest of the group smiled, and Maya gestured to the empty end of the sofa. “Sit. Everything’s really good, I promise.”

It was. It was curry, a nice heat to it, and a huge variety of dishes. Eric noticed that the stranger was incredibly tense—likely nervous, saying almost nothing and eating very little. Eric’s southern instincts started to kick in, and he had to physically fight back the urge to force-feed him, “For his own good,” as his momma would say.

The pies were a huge success, but it wasn’t long before the B&B owners decided to take their leave, and Eric found himself sitting with the awkwardly quiet stranger, whose name he still didn’t know.

After a beat, he turned, “I’m Eric,” at the exact same time as the stranger said, “I should get to bed.”

Eric’s cheeks flushed red-hot. “Oh. Right. Of course, I don’t mean to…”

“Jack,” the guy said, and hesitated, giving Eric a look of almost suspicion or maybe fear.

Eric coughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. I’m…Eric.” He trailed off with an even hotter blush. “Which I said that. Um. Already. I shouldn’t keep you. I know flights are murder.”

Jack hesitated, then nodded and got up without another word, disappearing out of the room. With a small sigh, Eric leant his head back on the sofa cushion wondering if this little trip was going to be worth it at all.

*** 

He was up early. Annoyingly, painfully early. The light filtering through the window was nothing more than a grey haze, drifting across the floor. Eric attempted to close his eyes again, but after twenty minutes realised it was pointless, and slung his legs over the bed.

He'd gotten exactly zero writing done the night before, and although his normal routine would be to make himself a cup of coffee, pull out his laptop, and attempt to get something done, the mere thought of trying to put words on the page made him exhausted to his core. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to go for a run. He had a decent playlist queued up, his headphones, armband, and his trainers packed in his case.

It wasn’t long before he was zipping up his hoodie, crouched on the steps of the cottage to tighten his laces. Just before he rose, the door opened behind him, and he gave a startled yelp. There was a deep voice swearing, then a face poking out.

“Crisse, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise anyone was out here.” Jack stepped out, leggings under running shorts, and hideously yellow running shoes on his feet. He looked sleep-rumpled and displeased to be up so early, but determined all the same. “What…are you doing?”

Eric flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually going for a run.”

Jack quirked a brow. “Work off those pies, eh?”

Eric gaped at him. “Ex…excuse you, mister, but they’re not that bad. And they were miniature!”

Jack snickered, and Eric realised he’d been joking. “Do you…want company?”

This was almost a complete one-eighty from the Jack the night before, and at Eric’s hesitation, Jack seemed to sense it. He had the wherewithal to look sheepish, but he didn’t rescind the offer as he waited, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Do you know this place at all?” Eric finally answered.

Jack shrugged. “I mapped out a path to the beach? I thought it would be nice to check it out. It’s not sand, so I’m not sure running it would be any good but…if you want to come along…” He trailed off, still uncertain.

Eric couldn’t help his grin. In the hazy morning light, Jack was good looking, and he looked less and less like a hard-ass, and more like a lost puppy. “That sounds real nice, Jack.” 

When Jack put in his own headphones, Eric did the same, grateful he wouldn’t have to make gasping small talk with the near-stranger on his run. It was weird, keeping pace with him. Jack’s body showed he was physically fit—probably professionally so, but Eric was fast. He had quit skating, and quit hockey when he was able to get another scholarship that wasn’t sport related, but he’d never given up on his fitness routine. The exercise helped him keep his focus when he lost it—which was often—and helped give him a routine to manage his ocd which wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when he was a kid, but could still be a pain in the ass.

They were a mile in, the smell of the sea near him, and Jack glanced over a few times, smiling as though he was surprised but pleased Eric was keeping up so well. The second mile took them to the shore, which was rocky and empty, and didn’t look friendly for running, but the road alongside was good enough, and they kept at another mile before Jack slowed, and Eric followed.

They came to a stop near a low wall, and Jack hooked his foot on the top as he adjusted his laces. “You’re fast,” he said.

Eric swiped the back of his hand across his brow. “Always have been. I was a demon on skates.”

Jack blinked at him. “Skates…”

“I was a figure skater,” Eric said with a shrug. “Then a little bit of hockey, but that didn’t last long. My size and the sheer terror I feel at the very idea of being checked…” He trailed off. “I try to keep up on my running, though.”

Jack’s face flickered through a few emotions, his gaze drifting off into the distance where they saw a very large ferris wheel looming against the backdrop of the hazy sky. “Are you tired?”

Eric laughed. “Well, I could do with some caffeine, but if I get a latte in me, there’s no way I’m going to be able to run back.”

“Not that far of a walk,” Jack said, then nodded off into the distance where Eric swore he saw the familiar green hanging of a Starbucks sign.

His heart leapt. “I knew we weren’t on another planet, but it’s weirdly comforting to see something so familiar.”

Jack chuckled, but said nothing as he motioned for Eric to follow.

The walk took longer than Eric expected, but Jack let him chatter away about his trip, the people he’d seen on the plane, the experience of being somewhere so new. “I tour a lot with my job,” Eric said, waving his hand as they turned up the street, the Starbucks now in sight. “But I never get to like…explore, you know? It’s like in and out, fast as they can get me. Next thing you know I’m at home with my expired milk and dozen messages I haven’t answered.”

Jack chuckled, holding the door open for Eric as they stepped into the warm lobby. “I understand that. I travel a lot for my job too.”

Eric didn’t get the chance to ask, as Jack strolled up to the counter and ordered. Eric was hanging back, hesitating until Jack cleared his throat, and motioned to the barista who raised her brows at Eric. “Oh. Oh you…I can…”

“Order,” Jack said, a little stern, but a little playful.

Eric’s cheeks bloomed pink, and he shrugged before ordering their latest special—something with marshmallow syrup and white chocolate. Jack grimaced at it, and then grimaced again when Eric added a croissant to the order, but said nothing as they found a set of comfy chairs near the back window.

“Pies and overly sugared coffee drinks,” Jack said.

Eric kicked at his ankle. “Don’t you chirp me. We ran plenty for me to treat myself. Not all of us get pleasure out of a tall blonde with a splash of soya.”

Jack laughed gently, and the sound of it made Eric’s fingers and toes tingle. It was easy to spot a crush, and unsurprising. Eric didn’t get them often, but when they came on, they came on strong. It had been that way with so many. Not like Chad—who had taken time to grow on him, with Eric spending more time trying to give him a chance than be happy. But Eric hadn’t dated much, and certainly hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to go out with someone who made him feel like…well. This.

“You alright?” Jack asked.

Eric glanced up and realised Jack had gotten up for the drinks and croissant, and was just easing back down into the chair. Eric touched the corner of his mouth with his fingers, and realised he was frowning. He let out a small breath and shrugged. “Yeah. It’s…been a rough few months. Sometimes, after I’m real active, I sit down and the quiet sort of…”

“Turns into a hurricane of bullshit in your head?” Jack offered.

Eric laughed, sipping on his drink which was just this side of too hot, but made perfectly. “Yeah, something like that. I came to get away, but this place is so still, you know? Maya was real nice, kept me company but…”

“It’s harder to find peace when things aren’t familiar,” Jack finished for him.

Eric tipped his cup in solidarity, and they drank together. “So,” Eric said as he ripped the end of the croissant into small bits, “Jack. What brings you across the ocean. You…have come from across the ocean, right? Your accent is…”

“Quebecois,” Jack said. “Canadian. So yes. And…” He hesitated, glancing round as though they might be overheard, maybe forgetting they were somewhere completely foreign, surrounded by people who probably didn’t care. “I had a bad break up. I have…anxiety,” he said with a little more hesitation. “It messes with my work, and the break-up sent things over the edge. I have some time off from work this sea—this … time of year. And my GM and her wife suggested this place. I guess they had a second honeymoon here last year and loved it.”

“Well it would be nice for that. Romantic,” Eric said with a shrug, feeling a little bit of cresting loneliness in his gut. “Not that I’d know. I came here in hopes I can get work done so I don’t fuck everything up.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Am I keeping you from…”

“No,” Eric said swiftly, interrupting. “I’m a writer? Like a novel writer. So I’m on my own timeline. I’d love to be disciplined enough to just sit my bee-hind in a chair and just get to work, but it doesn’t work like that.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Jack said quietly.

Eric offered him a smile. “It’s not that bad. I have a feeling I’ll be able to get enough done to make my editor happy. It’s just…it’s been a lot lately. I had my own break-up to speak of, though it was a long time comin’ and really it was more relief than anything. But my books erm…” He trailed off, not sure he wanted to rehash it all.

Jack didn’t push. “Maybe the running, the quiet, it’ll be good for you?”

Eric laughed. “You’d think. I tried it up the coast, near Maine. Didn’t do me a lick’a good, so friend of mine thought maybe putting an ocean of distance between me and real life would help.”

“Well,” Jack said, then let out a small breath, “here’s hoping?”

Eric laughed, then pushed to his feet. “Yeah. Here’s hopin’.”

*** 

Eric didn’t see Jack again until late that night. He’d missed most of the meals in the cottage, instead rushing down to grab something to eat, then straight back to his laptop. Most of the time he was staring blankly at the screen, at the handful of sentences—each one he was second guessing, coming up with half a dozen reasons the cishet bigots were going to hate it and quote it on their blog posts.

It was overrated, this fame. He wasn’t making nearly enough money to sacrifice himself like this.

Exhausted, he pushed his forehead onto the desk, then stood up and decided that a cup of tea and an hour break was the very least he could do for himself. He wasn’t going to get anything done by letting himself get caught up in the bullshit, and walking away seemed like the best idea right then.

The cottage was completely quiet, and Eric assumed that the owners had gone off to their own spaces, and Jack was in his room. He was proved wrong by the latter, when he came to a skidding halt near the living room. There was a fire going in the hearth, the TV on but it was muted, and Jack was on the sofa, leaning between his knees, his face in his hands. It took Eric a second to see Jack’s shoulders shaking, hear the quiet sniffles, and he was frozen with indecision.

The carer part of him wanted to rush into the room and envelope Jack in a hug. The logical part of him knew that Jack was a total stranger and might not take kindly to being accosted by the comfort of a southerner. So Eric did the only thing he could think of.

He backed up, then made a bunch of noise as he walked by. He shuffled loudly past the living room, and into the kitchen where he started the kettle heating. After a beat, he poked his head round the corner and saw Jack surreptitiously wiping his face on the hem of his t-shirt.

“Jack, I didn’t realise you were up,” Eric said, attempting to sound casual. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

Jack hesitated, the edge of his jaw tensing, then he let out a sigh. “Yeah, actually. That sounds…nice.”

Eric managed his nerves by busying himself with the tea tray Maya had pointed out before. There was a little pot for milk, and one already filled with sugar. He took two mismatched mugs out of the cabinet, grabbing a couple of herbal tea bags. When the tea was steeping, he carried the tray into the living room, and set it on the coffee table.

Jack was on the edge of the sofa, his cheeks still mottled pink, but his eyes were dry. He offered the smallest quirk of his lips to Eric before reaching for his mug, taking it just as plain as he took his coffee. Eric wasn’t entirely sure how herbal tea was supposed to be made, so he put in a spoon of sugar, and sipped on it before he was brave enough to properly look at Jack.

“Late night?” he offered.

Jack let out a tiny chuckle, his voice hoarse. “I’m sure you saw me. Erm. Before.”

Eric blushed. “Well I…it …” He shook his head. “There’s no shame in you know…feelin’ things, Jack.”

Jack smiled this time, a little wider. “I know. I’ve been in therapy long enough to not be ashamed of a little crying. Today was…a lot.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Did I miss something?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s like you said before. The quiet gets to you. When there’s no static to drown out your thoughts, the memories sort of…play on repeat until it overwhelms you. Or well…me, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Eric breathed out, sitting back. He tucked his bare feet up on the cushion that sat between them, and cocked his head to the side. “Maybe that ain’t entirely a bad thing, though? I mean, at least we’re facin’em now, right? Instead of letting the static distract us until they’re so loud, nothing can stop the sound of that…internal scream.”

Jack stared, then laughed again. “Internal scream. I like that.”

Eric’s grin widened. “Momma used to chirp me when I was younger. Said I wasn’t anything on the inside but a bunch of exclamation marks.”

Jack shook his head, but his eyes were fond, and he didn’t look as upset as before. “I was definitely not that. Far too quiet. I had a lot going on as a kid, my parents were…” He trailed off and shrugged. “It took me a while to be brave enough to be myself.”

“Well I know how that goes. Gay and southern. Trust me, I got a Ph.D. in hidin’ who I really am.” Eric froze, realising he’d just sort of come out, and he felt the edge of panic until he remembered Jack talking about his GM and her wife so maybe…

“I’m sure that was hard,” Jack said quietly, his gaze on his watery tea. “I guess I was lucky, in that respect. My parents never really seemed all that concerned about my sexuality. I mean, with my career, they worried about me if I wanted to be openly bisexual, but in the end, there was a lot more. The anxiety,” he clarified, “and the pressure of my job.”

“Guessin’ it’s sports related,” Eric said, and Jack’s gaze snapped up to him, making him laugh a little bit. “Mind, if it ain’t football, I probably wouldn’t know much about it, and even that’s just proxy from my dad talkin’ about his football boys. He’s a coach,” Eric clarified. “High school, but keeps up with’em after they graduate. But you got the look, and the things you said…I just…guessed.”

“You’re right,” Jack said quietly. “But it didn’t matter, in the end. Coming out never ended up being the issue. I mean, yes, the fans can be…” Jack trailed off with a scowl, and Eric understood _that_ look more than he understood anything. “But they’re easy to ignore when you have almost no social media.”

“That’s lucky. Writing, you’re kind of dependent on it if you want to make a name for yourself, and I’m startin’ to wonder if sellin’ my soul to the publishing gods was really worth it after all.” He rubbed at his temple, then sighed. “Sorry. This isn’t about me. I don’t mean to…”

“I don’t mind,” Jack said. “Really. It’s kind of nice to not…focus on just me for a change.”

Eric laughed. “Well…what a pair we make, then.”

Jack gave him a look, sweet, a little simmering which Eric wasn’t entirely sure how to read. But Jack had just come off a relationship—a bad one by the sound, and Eric had his own shit to deal with, so it was best he didn’t go down a road he wasn’t prepared for.

*** 

And that’s how it went for the first week. Jack and Eric met every morning for a run, then a coffee before heading back to the house for Eric to write at a pace slower than cold treacle, and Jack to wander during the day, and occasionally just sit with Eric by the fire at night.

It was the following Monday, however, when Eric was just about to throw his laptop into the wall out of frustration for his lack of progress when there was a short knock on the door. He rose, taking a breath, half expecting either Eli or Maya, but he grinned when he saw Jack there.

“Maya went into labour,” he said.

Eric’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Jack nodded. “Eli came in to tell me, and said they’d be gone a few days so we were on our own. He erm…” Jack held up a key. “He asked us to hold down the fort, and maybe not take any new guests.”

Eric laughed. “Lord have mercy, could you just imagine?”

Jack grinned. “I was thinking, if you’re not too caught up in work, you might want to come out and get dinner with me.”

Eric felt his heart thud against the inside of his ribs, and he willed himself to remain calm. “Well, considerin’ I was about ten seconds from lighting the dang thing on fire for all the good it’s doin’ me, I think I’ll accept. Thank you.”

Jack smiled. “Meet you downstairs?”

Eric grinned back. “You bet. Give me ten.” 

Eight of the ten minutes was calming himself, and the remaining two was throwing on something reasonable looking, and praying he wasn’t too much of a disaster as he shoved his feet into his trainers and hurtled down the stairs.

Jack was waiting for him on the sofa, and rose with that same little smile as Eric walked into the room. “We’re walking, if that’s okay. I still can’t get the hang of driving here and I’m not even sure it’s legal for me since I have a US licence.”

Eric raised his brows as they stepped outside and Jack locked the door. “I thought you were Canadian.”

Jack shrugged. “Half, technically. I was born and raised in Montreal, but my mother’s American, and I work there. It’s just easier for me since I don’t get home a lot.”

Eric shoved his hands into his pockets and they started up the road. The dining areas of the city weren’t too far, about a twenty minute stroll at their pace, which gave Eric time to calm his racing heart, and gave him a moment to talk himself out of thinking this was, in any way, a date.

“So where is home? I mean…work home. I mean…if you don’t mind my asking. Lord, I’m being so rude today and I just…”

“Boston,” Jack said, interrupting Eric with a tiny smile. “Right now, it’s Boston.”

Eric felt his heart skip a beat, because how…how had he lived in Boston for going on five years and had never seen this man? Granted, he’d spent most of the last five years either glued to his computer, touring for his book, or dealing with Chad’s shit but…

“I’ve been there a year,” Jack said, cutting into Eric’s internal freaking out.

Eric blinked at him. “Oh! Oh. Um. Before, you were…”

“Seattle,” Jack said. “Then Texas for a year, but that didn’t last very long. Texas did not agree with a Jewish, bisexual man with a severe anxiety disorder and inability to tolerate that sort of heat.”

Eric covered his mouth with a small giggle. “Georgia would have you runnin’ for the hills then, trust me. Ain’t friendly to any of those things.”

Jack didn’t seem put off by that, instead smiling back at Eric. “It was nice to be on the East Coast. I…wasn’t sure I was…there was a thing,” Jack said, scratching at the back of his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Eric said, laying his hand on Jack’s arm.

Jack stumbled in his step, but only for a moment. Eric pulled away quickly, having forgotten himself, but Jack walked a little closer after that, letting his elbow bump into Eric’s every so often. “Maybe when we’re sitting down,” Jack said after a minute.

“Sounds good,” Eric said, and was rewarded with another, tiny grin.

They found a little waterfront restaurant that wasn’t too crowded, and they were seated not long after they arrived. It wasn’t anything over the top fancy, but nice enough, with a decent view. Eric let himself have a glass of wine, though Jack declined anything but water, and they ordered quickly.

“This is…not what I expected to be doing on this trip,” Eric confessed after some time. He sipped his wine, and offered Jack an easy grin. “I mean, dinner with a handsome stranger whose last name I don’t even know…”

“Zimmermann,” Jack said quietly, and did that same thing he’d done before, like he was bracing for impact. “It’s Jack Zimmermann.”

“I’m Eric Bittle,” Eric offered in return. Then, by the look on Jack’s face, he laughed. “Lord have mercy, under any other circumstances you and I ought’a know who the other one is.”

Jack laughed along with him. “I think so, yeah. I’m…I play hockey.”

Eric’s eyebrows shot up, and though he had a thousand things to say to that, instead he offered, “I write New York Times best selling queer middle-grade fiction which are currently being shredded online by religious bigots.”

Jack’s shoulders went tense. “So when you said you came here to get away…”

“The stress of it was causing writer’s block,” Eric confessed. “I know I shouldn’t even look, that I should just live my life in a quiet bubble and let those assholes say whatever they’re gonna say, because me writin’ or not writin’ isn’t going to make a damn bit’a difference for these people. And I keep reminding myself I’m putting out there fiction that I would have killed for as a kid. I know I’m doing some good…”

“Probably more than some,” Jack said, his voice even quieter than usual. He took a breath. “I was in junior hockey. I…won a lot of trophies, and I was headed for the draft. Only I…my anxiety was really bad, and right before, I had a break-down. I took too much of my meds, ended up in rehab, and my boyfriend ended up going first in the draft. I took a year off, then played a year in the minors before the Schooners picked me up.”

“Oh. Jack,” Eric breathed.

Jack shook his head. “It’s…it is what it is. I almost went to University, but I didn’t think I could handle the pressure of people knowing who I was. My dad’s…he’s big in hockey. Everyone who knows hockey knows him and…” Jack licked his lips, then took a long drink of his water. He was quiet as the food arrived, and didn’t say anything until they’d had a few bites. Eric didn’t push him, either, though the suspense was killing him. He wanted to hear everything, then tuck this man into bed, bake him a dozen pies…make out with him…take his shirt off, touch his butt…

Eric was getting off track.

“My ex and I worked things out, and two years ago, when I was playing for Dallas, we decided to come out. But that came with…a host of issues because I don’t think he was ready.”

“So why did he?” Eric asked.

Jack huffed an angry laugh. “Because nothing we had was ever healthy. I think he was always terrified of being left behind. Even when he went ahead of me, straight into the NHL—to winning the Stanley Cup, to winning gold at the Olympics.” Jack shook his head. “Everything was a goddamn competition or a challenge. Every time I tried to break it off, he treated it like some Herculean task he just…needed to conquer. And being with him was easier than dealing with a break-up. Only…that ended up not being true. I just didn’t realise it until…”

“Suddenly the static stopped drowning out the screams?” Eric offered.

Jack’s face softened into a grin, and he chewed on a bite of chicken before laughing. “Exactly. We had an explosive ending, and he…made some threats, and I learnt a few things that I…” Jack shrugged. “Neither one of us were particularly nice to each other, and I realised he just brought out the worst in me. I’m not…I don’t think I’m a mean person. Focused, and determined, but not…not mean. Except I was with him. So it was better that we ended things. But it didn’t feel better. Not right away.”

“So you needed time off,” Eric supplied.

Jack shrugged. “It’s the off season. We didn’t make it past the first round of playoffs this year, and as disappointing as it was, I felt better about it. I took a couple weeks to recoup at home, then I came here and I…” Jack ducked his head, almost shy and so endearing it hurt. “I met you. And ended up here, having dinner.”

Eric’s face went white-hot, and he had to gulp his wine in order to keep his cool. “Lord, Mr Zimmermann, that’s one way to charm a man.” He stopped. “Not that you’re trying to…I’m not implying I think this…” Eric dropped his face into one hand. “Lord, someone just end me, please.”

Jack’s gentle laugh and soft touch of his fingers on Eric’s wrist brought him back down. “It’s…okay, you know? I wouldn’t mind if you…implied this was…” He trailed off, the same as Eric had, and Eric had to look up at the soft grin and sleepy eyes.

“Okay,” he all-but whispered. Then he cleared his throat, and tried not to show too much protest when Jack pulled his hand away. “For the record, my break-up was not that climactic. Chad and I had been together way too long, and he was a complete ass, and I’d been so busy with work I didn’t realise I’d landed myself in a relationship where we couldn’t stand each other. It took some work, but we got everything separated and I don’t think I’ll be hearin’ from him any time soon. Or like…ever.”

Jack laughed softly again, and speared the last of his chicken. “I guess that’s fair. Kent and I…I don’t know how it’ll be. He’s still angry, and I’m not ready to do more than face him on the ice. But he’s in Vegas which means I only play him a couple times a year.”

“Do you think you’re over him?” Eric asked, very soft.

Jack shrugged. “That’s more complicated for me. I spent half my life in his orbit, and there’s always going to be…something, I think? But I don’t love him. I haven’t loved him for a long time, and I don’t think I ever loved him the right way.”

Eric pushed a bit of pasta round his plate, then bravely faced Jack’s gaze. “Is there a right way to love someone?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I never loved him the way he needed me to. And I think that’s where it all went wrong.”

*** 

At his insistence—and several minutes of pouting—Jack finally relented and let Eric pay the bill. But only with the promise he could get ice cream after, and they found a small shop on the boardwalk near the ferris wheel. It was moving then, the slow, metal churn which could be heard along with the murmuring of the night crowd. The place was busy, a sea of accents from people all over the world, and Eric felt both humbled and a little overwhelmed by it all.

But as they got closer, Jack’s hand suddenly brushed along Eric’s, hesitated, then linked with his fingers. Eric gasped, but squeezed back, and though he wasn’t brave enough to look over, he was smiling.

“You want to ride?” Jack asked quietly.

Eric laughed. “Oh lord, I’m not…the best with heights. I mean, it’s not a phobia but…”

Suddenly there was a warm body pressed against his, and Jack’s voice right in his ear, a quiet, gentle murmur. “What if I promise to keep you safe?”

Eric’s entire body shivered, and somehow he managed to bin what was left of his ice cream, and let Jack pull him to the queue. Before he could really consider his fear, or the mechanics of the whole thing, or what this might actually _mean_ , Eric was suddenly in a swinging pod, squashed up next to Jack on the uncomfortable bench.

He decided it was less terrifying than the rickety old wheels at backyard carnivals with nothing more than a metal bar to protect you from certain death, but he was still uneasy. Luckily the ride moved slow, more intent on giving a view of the sea than of trying to incite an adrenaline rush, but that last bit couldn’t be prevented when Jack’s arm suddenly slid down round his waist, his fingers searching, pushing until Eric’s shirt was rucked up just slightly, and Jack was touching him.

Eric heated from head to toe, and found himself pushing into the contact. “Jack,” he breathed.

Jack let out a tiny hum as they moved up another space, as other passengers were boarding. “Eric,” he said after a long moment. “I’m sorry, if I’m reading this wrong…”

“You aren’t,” Eric said, and bravely turned, making sure he was looking Jack in the face. “I just…are you sure? I know things are tough for you and…oh hell, I like you a whole lot, and this is nice, but I don’t want to push you. And I know this is kind of…well, it’s unusual. Two strangers staying at some nearly deserted B&B and I…”

Jack’s hand left Eric’s waist, and for a split second, Eric thought maybe he’d ruined the whole thing with his babbling and insecurity. Then Jack’s hand touched his cheek. It was light, cautious, tentative in a way that was _so_ Jack. His fingers explored first, brushing along the space Eric had a smattering of leftover spring freckles. Then his palm cupped Eric’s cheek, and his thumb rubbed along the skin in a gentle motion. 

“I’m sure,” Jack said after a long silence. The sentence was punctuated with a sort of breathy, disbelieving laugh, and Jack shook his head. “Maybe it’s…unrealistic to think that this is something. Maybe it’s vacation-brain. But I haven’t met anyone who makes me feel like this. With Kent it was…fire, and it was being young and stupid, and trying to figure out who the hell we were. And when we got back together, it was all just…seeking comfort in familiarity. It took me a long time to realise what I actually wanted.”

“And what’s that?” Eric asked, his voice just as soft.

Jack leant back a little against the dark window, and let his hand drop to cup the crook of Eric’s neck. “Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I have to work for the moments of peace between us. I want a relationship where the happy moments aren’t a reward for the rest of it being miserable. I want being given a cup of tea to feel like being given a dozen roses.”

Eric was blushing now, from head to toe, and he pushed against Jack’s hand, shifting over so they were pressed together. It no longer mattered how high they were in the air, or the motion of the pod, or anything else in the world besides the way Jack was looking at him with those heated blue eyes, and the gentle parting of his lips.

Eric wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his entire life.

Jack seemed to be on the same page, because he leant toward Eric like he couldn’t help himself. His fingers dug into the collar of Eric’s shirt, his other hand coming up to cup the other side of Eric’s face. And then, where there felt like a vast, infinite distance between them, suddenly there wasn’t. There was soft, plaint lips, and the gentle, easy brushing of tongue. Eric’s fingers found their way into the front of Jack’s shirt, wrecking it to hell, but Jack didn’t seem to care. He made a soft noise into Eric’s mouth, a half sigh, half moan, and Eric’s eyes fluttered closed.

It was the most perfect kiss he’d ever had—and not because it was good, or because it was well practised, but because it was Jack, and Eric hadn’t realised how long he’d been missing all of that—everything Jack had said about happiness and simplicity. He’d never had that before, never really let himself think it was a possibility until right now.

When they broke apart, Eric opened his eyes just as Jack let his forehead come to rest against Eric’s, and he breathed him in.

“That was…” Eric said.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah.” He pulled back to check his watch, then laughed. “We still have ten minutes of this ride.”

Eric blinked, a little doe-eyed and smiling soft as he tucked in closer, and let one hand rest at Jack’s collarbone. “Then I guess we’d better make the best of it.”

Jack’s grin widened. “I suppose we should.”

*** 

There was a piece of Eric, hot and heated, that wanted to grab Jack by the hand and bodily drag him back to the B&B to take advantage of the time they had alone there. But the bigger piece of him didn’t want to rush things, and didn’t exactly know what any of this meant. Jack had made his intentions plain enough without openly stating what he wanted, but that left far too much room for interpretation.

They still had a week to go, though, so Eric decided maybe it was a good thing they could take things at a slower pace. It was nice to just exist, to browse shops hand-in-hand, Eric getting caught up in little touristy trinkets he wanted to buy for his mother, and snarky screen-print t-shirts he’d love to bring home for Jess.

He was looking through a collection of mugs with the Brighton Wheel on them when Jack detached. “Can you wait just a second?” he asked. “I need to grab something.”

Eric waved him off, then panic set in. He didn’t have Jack’s number, and if this was Jack deciding to panic and deciding to ditch him…

But it only took ten minutes, and Eric hadn’t quite worked himself up into hysteria before Jack returned with a small, white bag hanging off his arm. Jack gave him a curious look, and Eric was sure his anxiety was plain on his face, but Jack didn’t do more than take Eric’s hand and drag him to a few more shops before they decided to call it a night.

As they got back to the house, they bypassed the sitting room and headed for the hallway, Jack then pausing and hovering near Eric’s door. “Should we…” he began at the same time as Eric said, “Do you want to…”

They shared a laugh, and Jack dipped his head in low, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to Eric’s mouth. “I want to. But maybe we can still…take it slow?”

Eric nodded, letting out a breath. “We have a while yet.”

They changed into sleep clothes, and then spent the time between awake and a sleep, trading soft, lazy kisses until neither of them could keep their eyes open any longer.

*** 

During the time the owners were away, Eric and Jack settled into a sort of domesticity which held their previous routine of running and meals together, only then they fell asleep in either of their beds, curled round each other, holding tight to hope that when it was time to leave, they’d still find a way to make it work.

It was Thursday when Eli entered the house, smiling at Eric who was busy making batches of cookies and mini pies for Maya’s arrival. He gave a sharp salute in sign to Eric before grabbing some water, then heading into the living room to chat with Jack.

Eric paused in the doorway after plating up some of the cookies, and found the two on the sofa, Jack working through a few signs, and Eli laughing at him with a good-natured grin. “No it’s…” Eli reached over to correct the handshape, then looked up to see Eric. “Want to join?”

Eric shook his head and held up the cookies. “For Maya. Can I…?”

Eli waved Eric toward the door, and Eric paused only to give Jack a small grin and a wink before heading over. Just as Eric reached the back cottage, the door swung open and a very unimpressed, stern looking woman walked out. She gave Eric a sharp up and down stare, then brushed past him without a word. Eric hesitated, but knocked on the door all the same, then pushed inside.

Yosef was there, sat on a comfy chair near the unlit fireplace, and he looked startled, but pleased to see Eric. “Hi!”

Eric flushed. “Sorry to barge in. I just…I thought Maya might want something?”

Yosef looked at the cookies, then snatched one off the plate before pointing him in the direction of her bedroom. Eric knocked on the doorframe before pushing the door open, and poking his head in. Maya looked exhausted, her hair a mess of curls tied up in a bobble, wearing oversized pyjamas. She was curled up against her headboard, a bundle of what was likely the baby next to her. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, but they brightened when he entered.

“Please god tell me that’s some sort of baked good,” she said, peering at the plate.

Eric slid the cookies in next to her. “They are, and they’re fresh from the oven so enjoy.”

As she grabbed one, Eric peered over at the bundle and saw the profile of the sleeping baby. Maya watched him, then said, “It’s a girl, and that was the most painful fucking thing I’ve ever done, and I never, ever want to do that again.”

Eric laughed quietly as he reached over, brushing a curled knuckle up the baby’s cheek. “I’ve heard labour’s rough. Does she have a name?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what it is yet,” Maya said with a laugh. “My ex boyfriend is coming over to help me out.”

Eric looked at her carefully. “Your ex boyfriend. Is he…”

Maya laughed, shaking her head and speaking through a mouthful of cookie. “No, not this one. We only dated for a nanosecond, but he’s my best friend. Weirdly it’s just easier to describe him as an ex. Dunno…” She trailed off with a shrug. “Her parentage is kind of…complicated.”

“You don’t have to say,” Eric replied to her, giving her a small smile.

Maya bit her lip, then said, “So…you and Jack?”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, am I wearing a sign?”

She laughed at him, which startled the baby, and she was quick to swoop the tiny bundle into her arms. “More like Eli texted me when you were walking over because he was trying to get deets out of Jack, but he was pretty tight-lipped.”

Eric flushed, glancing away. “Yeah well…that’s complicated too. He’s…his job is…” Eric cleared his throat. “It’s maybe even more public than mine, and I’m not sure if he’s up for dating someone whose private life is constantly being dragged into the public eye.”

Maya sighed and rocked the baby for a minute. “Well, I’m not like a love expert—believe me. I’m…hah. I’m kind of the opposite. But you two are stupid cute together so if you wanted to actually make something work…I think you could.”

Eric looked at the baby, then up at her earnest smile and shrugged. “Well…here’s hoping. Because you know…I really, really like him.”

*** 

Things were fine, until suddenly it seemed like they weren’t. It felt like time was racing toward the finish line, Eric’s check-out date looming. He’d been making amazing progress on his book, and maybe it wasn’t as good—not being able to draw on more angsty feelings to give his writing an edge, but there was substance and it was hard to be upset because…well…he was happy.

He was so happy.

So two nights before it was time for him to leave, Eric walked into the room and paused for Jack, who stopped in the doorway.

“I…” Jack hesitated, shuffling his feet. “I think I’m…going to sleep in my room tonight.”

Eric froze, feeling a heavy weight in his gut. “Oh. Um. Well…yeah okay. I…I mean, you need your sleep and I…”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. It’s not personal.”

Eric shook his head, fighting back the tight feeling in his throat, the prickling at his eyes, and he tried to square his shoulders and look far more calm than he felt. “Really, no worries, Jack. I get it.”

Except he didn’t. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, or how he’d upset Jack, or…

Then it hit him, as Jack was closing the door and walking away. Jack was having second thoughts. The vacation brain was starting to surface into reality, and it was clear this was just…a fling. Though Eric couldn’t even really call it that, because they’d never gone beyond quiet dates and a few kisses. But it had been…nothing. Casual. Pointless.

The back of Eric’s knees hit the bed, and he sank down and felt his entire world shifting. He’d been such an idiot. Foolish. He let himself be happy over nothing, no guarantees, no actual promises. Jack inferred, but never made anything explicit and…

And then he was angry. Then he was furious, because Jack wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t oblivious. He had to have known he was leading Eric on.

Eric’s indignant rage fuelled him, guided his feet to the floor, and his body out into the hallway and across to Jack’s door. He rapped on the wood harder than necessary, and when Jack entered, he bodily pushed his way into Jack’s space.

“You could have told me,” Eric spat.

Jack took a step back and blinked. “Told you…”

“That this was…a…whatever. Sowing your oats or having some sort of over-seas fling or…”

“Eric,” Jack said, helplessly and quiet.

“No,” Eric bit. “You knew…I mean I thought we were on the same page and I was up front with my feelings. You _knew_ I liked you, and you could have told me you didn’t want this to go further.”

“That’s not,” Jack said, then his words failed him, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Eric, that’s not it.”

Eric crossed his arms, indignant and hurt. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” Jack said. “I think I’m…merde,” he swore. “I think I’m falling in love with you.” It hit Eric, the shock of the confession, the bluntness of it, and he couldn’t help but take a step back, even as Jack carried on. “I haven’t felt like this about anyone in a long time, and I’m worried. Because we’re busy, and we haven’t even really…gone that far with each other, and when we get back to the states we’re going to be such a long distance from each other that…”

“Wait,” Eric said, holding up a hand. “Jack…long distance…”

Jack looked at him, his face almost devastated. “I mean, I know we both have money and we travel, and Georgia isn’t on the other side of the world but…”

Eric shook his head. “Georgia. Jack…what on earth are you…” Then he froze with realisation. “Jack…I don’t live in Georgia.”

“But,” Jack said, looking confused and almost small. “But you said you were from…”

“From,” Eric said, then smacked a hand to his face. “Oh my god, did I seriously never tell you…” Eric wanted to kick his own ass for his oversight. “Jack, oh my god, you…” He took a step toward him, hands out, and Jack took them. “I live in Boston,” he said very quietly.

Jack’s entire face shifted, hope alighting in his eyes like Eric had never seen, and he tugged Eric close. “You live in Boston,” he repeated, nearly a whisper.

Eric laughed. “Yes, you ridiculous man. I’m…it’s my fault, I never said. I didn’t even think…” He laughed, pushing his face into the front of Jack’s chest. “I live in Boston. I travel a lot for work but…I moved there after University. Lord, you could pay me enough to get me to move back to Georgia, sweetpea.”

Jack made a noise in the back of his throat, then his large hand cupped Eric’s jaw and drew his face up. “I thought…I mean I was willing to make it work, but I thought I was going to have to get used to sleeping without you and I…didn’t want to.”

“Oh you sweet, ridiculous, wonderful man,” was what Eric managed to get out before Jack tugged him in, and closed the distance between them.

*** 

It turned out, the bag Jack had procured on their date night out was full of condoms and lube. Jack and Eric managed to put them to very good use on their second to last night in the cottage.

*** 

“So,” Eric said, bone-tired, sated, and a little sticky as he pushed his head against Jack’s rapidly thrumming heart. “You will have to get used to sleeping without me some of the time. I mean…I travel a lot, and it’s probably best we don’t leap into…you know…”

“I know,” Jack murmured, brushing his fingers through Eric’s hair. “I don’t want to fuck any of this up, and I’m not interested in rushing. But I thought you were going to be so far. I thought I’d see you once every few months. And I wanted to make it work, I was willing to try, but I had to be ready to put distance between us. It was killing me.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Eric turned his face up to push kisses to the spots he could reach. Jack laughed gently, tucking Eric against him onto his side so he could spoon his body. After a moment, Eric breathed out and closed his eyes. “For the record,” he said, and Jack hummed for him to continue, “I think I’m fallin’ real hard for you too. I’ve…never felt this way either, and I don’t think I’m ready to let go.”

Jack pushed his nose into the back of Eric’s hair, then kissed along the back of his shoulders. “I was nervous at first. I don’t…fall very often, or very fast. And I thought maybe it was…just…like you said, being on vacation, being far away from life. But maybe,” he said, then stopped and only continued when Eric threaded their fingers together. “Maybe…it just feels this way because it’s right?”

Eric thought for a moment, then twisted so he could face Jack, cupping his jaw, letting his thumb play at the rough five o’clock shadow. “I suppose it’s all a possibility. We could go home and everything could change and we might feel different. But,” Eric said quickly, trying to erase the worry settling in Jack’s eyes, “I don’t think it is. And how I feel right now…” He grabbed Jack’s hand and pressed it over his heart. “It’s too good. And it’s worth it to take the risk.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked.

Eric leant in and kissed him sweetly, trying to convey every bit of feeling, every bit of promise into that one gesture. When he pulled back, he nuzzled their noses together and sighed out a, “Yeah, Jack. Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come shout at me on tumblr [angryspace-ravenclaw](https://angryspace-ravenclaw.tumblr.com)
> 
> Side-note, the Brighton Wheel closed last year, and it's since been dismantled, but I wanted to use it for romance's sake so let's just pretend it still exists in this timeline. If you've never been to Brighton, it's basically this little seaside city with a lot of tourist crap, and the beaches are pretty much all rocky, not sandy, and the water is always cold and the surf is crap but people seem to enjoy it anyway. 
> 
> Translations:  
> T'es beau, mon grand,  
> Et moi, vois-tu, je suis si petite.  
> T'es beau tout le temps
> 
> You're beautiful, my dear,  
> And I see, I'm so small.  
> You're beautiful all the time


End file.
